


I'm Sorry How It Ends This Way

by givethemanapie



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, So much angst, So much death, and death, if you're reading this I'm sorry, loosely a gta v au, no i'm not, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givethemanapie/pseuds/givethemanapie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why had they all left him alone? It was never supposed to end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry How It Ends This Way

**Author's Note:**

> I got really bored at about two am and started listening to The Light Behind Your Eyes by MCR. Then this happened. Oops.
> 
> The title is from that song, btw.

Geoff was the first to go, and if that wasn’t a sign as to how much everything would go to hell in the coming months, then Gavin didn’t know what was. Their powerful, seemingly indestructible leader shot down like a bloody animal. A heist they planned so carefully had gone so terribly wrong. The others had all escaped, but he’d be lying if he tried to claim that losing their leader hadn’t broken something terribly important in their small group.

~~~~~

Not long after, Ray followed him out. It wasn’t even an honourable death, in the midst of a firefight or some heist. Just gone in an instant. A shot to the head in a not-so-safe-house. Blood staining the harsh concrete floor, a soft thud that was barely audible over the ringing caused by the gunshot. All Gavin could think was that the player had lost at his own game, and he started laughing hysterically at that. No one tried to help him, and he didn’t either.

~~~~~

A few weeks, a few months, a year. A year since Geoff had died. God, had it been that long already? Things had been starting to feel sort of normal again. Well, whatever could be considered normal when two close friends were just gone. If there was one good thing to come of all this, it was Michael. Maybe it was grief, or shock, or whatever, but suddenly they were just together. Neither was sure when exactly that happened; no one was, really. They just worked. They had pulled each other out of some more… undesirable habits in the past months, and basically saved each other’s lives. Gavin wasn’t sure what he would do without him.

~~~~~

Why had they tried for a heist. They weren’t ready. They should never have gone. Shaking hands and tired eyes and sleepless nights should have stopped them. Should have, would have, could have, but they still didn’t. And they paid for their haste. The price of Ryan’s blood spilling over their feet in the back of the get away car wasn’t worth it. It just wasn’t. The sound of his raspy breaths, the coolness of his skin, the usual focus and intensity that were packed away in his gaze replaced by a listless look; not worth it. The way his eyes looked when the spark of life finally extinguished, the pale look to his skin, the last words of ‘Just stay alive, you idiots,’. How final the way they tossed his body in some hole outside of the nearest safe house was. It was their price, and damn it all if it wasn’t too high for the return.

~~~~~

Gavin was slipping, he could tell. His missed meals, his empty mind, his messy hair and scraggly beard. The only reason he was even still breathing was a combined effort from Michael and Jack, who were hurting themselves. God, how had it come to this. The high and mighty Fake AH Crew reduced to a bunch of worthless pricks with no will to live. Bloody pathetic, the lot of them. He wanted to fix it, he just didn’t know how. He wasn’t alone. Sometimes he caught Michael or Jack reaching out to him when they passed in the halls, or saw the beginning of a smile on someone’s face. Until it all came crashing back down; where they lived, what had happened, who wasn’t there anymore.

~~~~~

He thought maybe, just maybe, God or fate or whatever was done faffing about with his life. Apparently he was wrong. A few painful nights of watery coughing and troubled breathing had landed Jack in the hospital where, just bloody great, apparently he had some rare fucking disease. All Gavin had to hear was ‘Terminal… Won’t be alive much longer… Maybe a week at most’ before he just shut out the stupid doctor’s voice. He had to be wrong. He couldn’t just accept that after all this, Jack was just on his way out. It had to be some cruel fucking joke. He might have thought so too, if it wasn’t for the look of despair on Michael’s face as he clung to him. He couldn’t have come up with such a pained expression on his lover’s face, even in his worst nightmares.

The doctor had overestimated Jack. No more than two days later and Gavin’s head was filled with one long, blaring beep, and nurses were running in and he was being shoved out and he couldn’t fucking breathe and all he could hear was that goddamn beep and all he could see was that flat line and Jack’s stupid face and he just couldn’t. Michael was there, Michael was helping, but Michael wasn’t Jack. He just couldn’t be. Another crew member, sidelined by some stupid fucking disease he couldn’t even control.

~~~~~

The last straw was ripped from his grasp, torn into a thousand tiny pieces, and lit on fire less than a month later. Since Jack had left, he and Michael had practically become one person, and they weren’t doing well. Not a lot of eating, or sleeping, or anything was happening, and he probably should have done something to stop it. Probably should have followed, or talked to, or tried to stop Michael when he snapped and grabbed a jacket and said he was ‘going out’. Should have known that going out meant picking a fight with someone, should have known that of course Michael would pick the biggest, strongest man he could find. Should have known that his boi, even if he hadn’t been weakened by months of emotional stress and little to no physical care, wouldn’t have been able to take someone like that. Should have known that when he didn’t show up the next morning, or anytime that day, that he wasn’t coming back. No, stupid prick that he was he didn’t. Do. Anything.

And a couple of days passed, and then almost a week, and Gavin hadn’t heard anything, hadn’t even tried to find anything. Hadn’t eaten, barely slept, barely moved, barely even bothered to keep breathing. 8 days later he broke. He fucking broke. He couldn’t fucking do it anymore. Whatever small light that had been kept going by Michael through all of this shit was out of fuel. Reduced to nothing more than embers, barely glowing, ready to be put out completely. And so it was.

His hands were the steadiest they had been for a long damn time, his mind the clearest it had been in months. There wasn’t a letter, or a note, or even a phone call. Who would care that some small, burned out twig like him was just going to turn to ash soon. No one. He only wanted one thing. He just wanted his boi. Wanted to hold him, to hug him, to tell him he was sorry and goodbye and he loved him so damn much. And he couldn’t. So he did the one thing he felt he could, and he pulled the fucking trigger.

Now the last glowing ember in what had once been a raging bonfire of love and lust and rage and exhilaration was out, and there wasn’t even anyone left to see it go.


End file.
